The single moon of Olympus crested the distant hills, an amber orb that paled to silver as it rose. Its light sent a hulking, moon-cast shadow stretching out before the orc lord. Noting this, Gruumsh bared his fangs in a savage grin. The bright moonlight was as much his ally as the open terrain, for it made tracking all the easier.
A slight movement on the horizon caught the orc lord's eye. It was little more than a shimmer, rather like the colored lights that danced in the cold northern skies on one of Gruumsh's favorite worlds. But he recognized its source, and grimaced.
Sehanine.
Gruumsh hated all the elven deities and loathed their not-quite-mortal children, but he reserved a special enmity for this wench. A wisp of a female, pale as moonlight and insipid as a bloodless meal, the goddess Sehanine was nonetheless a potent adversary. This offended Gruumsh. Female orcs were generally smaller and weaker than males, and as a result, they held considerably less power. Orcish young learned the precept: "If Gruumsh had intended females to lead, he would have given them bigger muscles." He certainly wouldn't have equipped them with Sehanine's fey magic, or that subtle mind whose depths no orcish warrior could fathom. Corellon was bad enough, but at least Gruumsh knew what to expect from the elven god: battle-straightforward, bloody, and invigorating. That he could understand and respect.
The orc watched with apprehension as the dancing lights coalesced into a slender, feminine form. Like a luminous cloud, Sehanine walked toward him, rapidly taking on substance as she came. Night was her time, and she seemed to draw sustenance and power from the moonlight. In her hands was a shining sword, held point-up before her.
Gruumsh knew at once that this was no common weapon, even as gods reckon such things. No, this sword was a living thing. It was as alive-and as troublesome-as any elven world and all the beings that walked upon it, as vast in power as the sun that warmed that world and the skies that cradled it. The stunned orc noted the thousands of tiny stars that swirled within the wondrous blade and sensed the magic that pulsed through it like an ocean's tides.
It was Sahandrian, the sword of Corellon, made whole and new!
Surprise turned swiftly to rage, and Gruumsh let out a furious bellow that rumbled like thunder over the Moor. The proudest moment of the orc lord's godhood had been shattering that sword, watching the glowing fragments fade and disappear. Somehow, this great triumph had been undone by a scrawny elven wench. The orc's hatred of the moon goddess increased a thousandfold, and he howled out a fearsome oath of vengeance upon her and all creatures elven.
But Sehanine walked on, not sparing the furious Gruumsh so much as a glance. She crested the hill on which he stood and began to pass down into the valley, moving within easy range of a spear's toss.
The orc lord's brow beetled at this tacit insult. He whipped his spear from his shoulder and hauled it back for the throw.
The faint sound must have alerted his target, for Sehanine turned to him at last, an expression of faint disdain on her face. Too fast-impossibly fast-she leveled the elven sword at the orc lord as if it were a wizard's staff. A single pulse of silver light burst from the weapon and engulfed him in a shimmering sphere. Blinded and snarling with rage, Gruumsh fisted his free hand and dug furiously at his eyes in an attempt to banish the stars that swam and spun behind his eyelids.
By the time the orc lord's vision returned, the goddess had moved far beyond the range of his spear. She stood beside a gnarled cypress that clung to the top of the hill beyond. To the orc's dismay, Sehanine was not alone-a familiar, golden warrior came eagerly toward her. She knelt to him, Sahandrian held out before her. The lights that whirled within the elven weapon flared and leaped as the rightful owner reclaimed his sword.
Gruumsh shook his now-useless spear and fairly danced with rage. "Knave! Coward!" he howled at Corellon Larethian. "Bested in single combat, you hide behind a female's skirts! And what of your oath? You swore that no elven magic would be brought against me, yet you suffer this witch to undo my victory!"
"Not so," Sehanine said firmly, her silvery voice floating out over the valley that lay between them. She rose and faced down the angry god. "You have broken the truce, Gruumsh of the Orcs, and thus it will be remembered for all time. Corellon holds to the contract he has made with you and to all the tenets of honorable battle. He was never bested. Destroying his sword was no victory of yours. By an elf was Sahandrian undone, and thus it falls to the Seldarine to restore their own."
With these cryptic words, the goddess turned back to Corellon. Her silver eyes swept over him; tears sprang into them as she took note of his many wounds. Sehanine wiped the tears from her cheek and reached out with gentle fingers to touch the god's bleeding face. Instantly the mingled droplets on her hand took on a mystic glow.
"Children of the moon and the sun," she whispered. "Behold, my lord, the souls of elves yet unborn. Even battle with a dishonorable foe cannot diminish the magic we share."
She started to say more, but the bright moonlight that sustained her suddenly dimmed, and the rising wind chased a welter of black clouds across the moon. Sehanine cast a glance over her shoulder. The orc, as she expected, had kicked into a running charge, seizing what must have seemed to him a moment of elven weakness.
The goddess's face hardened. "Kill him, my lord," she whispered fiercely, and touched her fingers to Corellon's scabbard as if in grim benediction. When the dark clouds parted, she was gone.
Corellon bit back the words of thanks and tamped down the questions burning within him. Later, he vowed, he would seek out the moon goddess and have from her an explanation concerning the magic she had done, and the elven treachery to which she'd alluded.
But for now it was enough just to hold Sahandrian again. The elven god raised his sword high, exulting in the feel of the wondrous weapon in his hand and the prospect of renewed battle. With a ringing shout, he raced down the hillside to meet the orc's charge.
They met in the valley below with a thunderous clash. Sparks flew like shooting stars as the elven blade struck the iron haft of the orc lord's spear. Corellon deliberately allowed his blade to glance off the spear; he knew he could not equal or even counter the force of the orc's attack. His advantage was agility. Never once slowing his momentum, the elf ducked beneath the crossed weapons. Metal screeched over metal as his sword slid up the spear's haft with deadly intent.
Gruumsh twisted his spear sharply to one side, flinging the oncoming blade wide. He spun, stepping back to move himself beyond the elf's reach. As he turned back toward his foe, Gruumsh brought the blunt end of his spear down, swinging in hard and low at the elf lord's booted feet.
Corellon danced nimbly back-exactly as the orc hoped he would. Gruumsh's primary weapon was considerably longer than the elf's: Not even Sahandrian could cut what it could not reach.
With a fierce smile, the orc completed the sweeping arc, swinging his weapon up so that the shaft was level, the iron tip aimed at the elf lord's throat. With all his strength he lunged forward, thrusting as he went.
Corellon made no attempt to parry the mighty blow. He ducked under the rushing spear, then pivoted back to face his foe, using his speed to lend power to Sahandrian's swing. The sword scored a stinging blow to the orc lord's hip. Gruumsh whirled at the elf, his spear out full length before him. But the elf stepped in close, too close for the sharp tip to find him. His sword darted in and ripped yet another gash in the orc lord's hide before the shaft of the spear smashed into his ribs.
The elf rolled with the blow, coming up on his feet and once again lunging in close. But Gruumsh had tossed aside his spear. In one massive hand he held a dagger, in the other, the axe that had somehow destroyed Sahandrian earlier that day.